Eye Of The Storm
by Kylara Kitsune
Summary: On the night before Voldemort attacks Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione learn something.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: You know this already by now, but I have to say it anyway. Characters and Hogwarts are not mine.**

It's no good, I just can't focus. That's just typical, isn't it, on the night before the biggest battle the wizarding world has ever faced. The plans are spread out over the table in front of me, along with the Marauder's Map. It's the Battle of Hogwarts – Voldemort's desperate to be in control of it, even though there's no real need.

Pushing the massive pile of paper away, I think about heading down to the kitchens for something to eat. Then I realise that everyone else in this damn castle will be in there, partying like there's no tomorrow, in case it's the last chance they'll ever get. For some, it will be, and that's why I don't want to join in. It seems too defeatist. Just then, the door creaks open, and an exhausted-looking Draco Malfoy walks in.

"Not joining the party, Granger?"

"No, but neither are you, it seems."

"Getting pissed out of my brain doesn't seem like the way to win a war, if it's all the same to you."

"Couldn't agree more. So, what have you been doing?"

"Brewing the most enormous batch of hangover potion you've ever seen. Because I have no wish to die as a result of someone else's headache."

I laugh. I can't help it. Something in my head just cracks, and I'm giggling hysterically.

"If you can't take the strain, Granger…"

Biting the sleeve of my jumper in an attempt to muffle the noise, I shake my head.

"Someone has to do this, Malfoy. And I don't trust anyone else to do it right."

"No, you wouldn't. But maybe I should take a look."

I wave my hand towards my plans. "Be my guest."

He's particularly impressed with the Marauder's Map, because it marks all the entrances to the school.

"Where'd you get this?"

"The map?"

"Could they possibly have a copy?"

"No way. That's one of a kind."

The map, of course, responds in its own way. "Mr Prongs would thank the ferret to mind his own business" etc. When Wormtail's name appears, he gasps.

"Yes, Malfoy, I do know who Wormtail is. And I also know that he would never be able to replicate that map."

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

We lapse into companionable silence for a while. Despite still calling each other by our surnames, I guess you could say we were friends. Draco and Hermione just seemed too… personal, and we were used to Malfoy and Granger. Sometimes I called him ferret and he called me mudblood, but none of it was serious any more.

I close my eyes and lean back in the chair, trying to calm my mind. Outside, I can hear screams – I know the Death Eaters are in Hogsmeade, but I didn't realise until now just how close that really is.

"It's barbaric, really."

"Hmm?"

"That." Malfoy gestures towards the window. Opening my eyes, reluctantly, I can see the Dark Mark, beyond the Forbidden Forest. Flames flicker below it, and it's pretty obvious that Hogsmeade is no more.

This is why we have to win tomorrow. Innocent lives are at stake. If we die, that's different – we all knew the risks when we joined the Order, and we're all prepared for that. I've modified my parents' memories and sent them to Australia, Ron's family are all in the Order anyway, Harry and Ginny have spent hours getting to know each other intimately, so they "won't have any regrets", they say. Not sure if I totally believe that one, but it's their choice.

A cheer strikes up downstairs. It's a saying that we've adopted from somewhere, though I don't think anyone really knows where. "Victory or Death." It's certainly appropriate. If we don't win, we will definitely end up dead. Tonight, though, it strikes me as somewhat morbid.

"Cheer up, Granger. It'll all be over in twenty-four hours."

"Sounds like what they used to say in the Second World War – they'll all be home by Christmas."

"What are you on about now, Granger?"

"Oh, never mind. It's a muggle thing."

It still seems ridiculous that he knows nothing about such a momentous event, but he never did take Muggle Studies. I wonder if Tom Riddle ever did. Probably not, I decide.

"You really confuse me sometimes, you know."

I raise one eyebrow at him. "Well, if you hadn't been such a pureblooded prat for so long…"

"Ok, I let myself in for that one. And you know I'm not that bad any more." He paused. "So why don't you explain that one to me?"

"I don't have time to go through it all now, Malfoy, we've still got a battle plan to write."

"No, just the Christmas bit."

"It's just something people used to say to keep the morale of the troops up – it'll all be over by Christmas."

"And was it?"

"After six or seven Christmases, it was."

"Well, this definitely won't take that long."

That much was true. There were maybe a hundred people in Hogwarts, and if we lost, then the war was over. Voldemort would win. And I, for one, was not going to give in without a fight. I must have said this out loud, because Malfoy was laughing softly.

"That's the spirit, Granger."

The tension's been getting to everyone, and we've all found different ways of dealing with it. I sit here in the library and plan things over and over, Ron drinks, Harry and Ginny shag. Malfoy… well, I don't know what he does. Brews potions, probably – that's what he seems to spend most of his time doing.

The noise from downstairs is getting louder, and outside the fire is burning even brighter. It feels like we're caught in the eye of the storm, and if we step outside this room, we're going to be consumed by it.

"I think we've done as much as we can with this."

Malfoy stands up and stretches. I find myself watching, in a way I've never looked at him before.

"Better get some rest, Granger."

"Malfoy, I couldn't sleep tonight even if I drank a bucket of Dreamless Sleep potion." That's not strictly true, but he gets the general idea.

"Worried about tomorrow?"

"Not exactly." I pause, scratching the polished floor with my heels. That's something I only do when I'm nervous, not that he knows that.

"Any regrets?"

I don't know what to say. I hadn't expected that question.

"I suppose… I regret that I…" My voice trails off. I've never told anyone anything this personal, and now I'm about to tell Malfoy, of all people.

"That you what?"

"Never managed to have a real relationship." I blurted it out before I lost my nerve. Some Gryffindor I am.

"Anyone in particular you had in mind?"

"No…"

His lips brushed mine, lightly at first. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. This was what I'd been missing. But why did we have to realise it now? We broke apart, gasping for breath.

"When this is all over, tomorrow, meet me by the lake. On the far side, away from the building. Got that?"

"Yes."

**AN: Yes, there's a second part to this. I'll post it if anyone's actually interested.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: After a surprising amount of interest from you all, here's part two.**

It was over. Everything. Voldemort was dead, which meant, technically, we'd won. It sure as hell didn't feel like it, not when you looked at the bodies piled on what had once been the Quidditch pitch. Since early this morning, it had been a battlefield, and now… Now it looked too horrific for words.

Somehow, I don't know precisely how, I'd managed to escape any really nasty curses, and had nothing but a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Ron and Ginny didn't make it – they defended each other, along with Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas, right to the end. Harry's wandering around looking lost – he didn't expect it to end like this. No-one did, really.

There's a groan from the person nearest my feet, and a quick cleaning charm reveals Luna Lovegood. She's in bad shape, but still alive, so I cast the healing spells I know. Madam Pomfrey's returned from wherever she'd been hiding, and I leave Luna to her.

I'm supposed to meet Draco Malfoy at the lake, but I don't even know if he's still alive. We lost sight of each other very early in the fight. Slowly, I walk to the agreed meeting point, kicking the corpses of several Death Eaters as I pass them. A flash of pale blonde hair catches my eye, but it's Narcissa, her hood pushed back and a look of terror on her face. Lucius, the slimebag, is nowhere in sight.

He isn't there, so I sit on a large rock and look at the ruins of Hogwarts. It's difficult to spend seven years in a place and not miss it when it's gone. Until the first tear splashes onto my lap, I'm not even aware I'm crying. It's only now that I realise how much we've really lost – all those lives, everything. Yes, Voldemort is dead, but so are many of those who fought him.

I wipe my eyes, furiously. I'm not supposed to be feeling like this, not now. The rest of the wizarding world will be celebrating.

"Hermione."

Warily, I turn round. Even though the person used my first name, it could still be a rogue Death Eater. It isn't, though. It's Draco Malfoy, leaning against a tree, and clutching one of his arms. He's covered in blood, and really needs to see a Healer, the sooner the better.

"Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey look at that?"

"I had to see you first. I needed to know you were alright."

"I'm fine, but that arm isn't. Come on, I'll walk back with you."

He's limping as well. I wrap one arm around his waist, and do my best to support him. He should never have walked all this way by himself earlier, I don't care what his reasons were.

Half way around the lake, he collapses. I'm too far away from anybody to call for help, and I doubt they'd notice if I did something like send up red sparks. It'll have to be St Mungo's, there's nothing else I can do. Taking hold of his arm, I concentrate really hard. The last thing I want to do now is splinch him.

It seems to take forever – much longer than apparating should, but we arrive, unsplinched, in an undignified heap on the floor of the reception area. The Welcomewitch, wearing a lopsided party hat, screams. I suppose we do look a state.

It isn't long before we're both whisked upstairs to one of the wards. Despite my protests that I'm fine, I'm confined to a bed until the Healers have checked. I endure the poking and prodding for a few minutes, and then my temper snaps.

"If I wasn't fine, do you think I would have been able to apparate here?" That comes out louder than I intended, and everyone stares at me, silently.

The first noise I hear after my outburst is Malfoy laughing. He's standing in the doorway, looking highly amused.

"That's our Granger."

"Oh, stop smirking."

We walk out of the hospital together, then wonder for a moment where to go. Grimmauld Place, I decide. That's where all the remaining Order members will be.

When we arrive, the inevitable party is in full swing. Harry spots us, stumbles over, and pours us a Firewhisky each.

"The bastard's finally dead, Mione. Dead and gone."

I nod, not knowing what I should say. He's drinking to forget, not to celebrate, and so am I. I down the Firewhisky in one gulp, ignoring the burn in my throat, and hold my glass out for a refill. Draco does the same, before deciding to drag me onto the dance floor. I don't know how long the party went for – probably until the last person collapsed, drunk and exhausted. It felt like hours.

Sometime the next day, I wake to find myself wrapped in Draco's arms, on one of the armchairs. Everyone else is sprawled out somewhere in the room, on the floor, on the sofas, it didn't seem to matter.

"Don't leave, Hermione." His arms tighten around me, and I settle back down next to him. I could get used to this.

…………………

Two years later.

I'm putting the final touches to my make-up. Luna's helping me, and trying not to cry with happiness. She hands me my shoes, and I put them on. That's it, I'm ready.

We walk down the grand staircase of Malfoy Manor, and into the garden, where everyone is waiting. I can't believe I'm actually marrying Draco Malfoy. He's looking incredibly smart, in a muggle tuxedo – when I told him I wasn't putting up with a wizarding wedding, he seemed relieved because he wouldn't have to wear dress robes.

He slips the ring on my finger, and we kiss. Everyone calls me Mrs Malfoy for the rest of the day, even though it's now Hermione Granger-Malfoy.

I'm not only the first muggleborn to marry into this family, I'm also the first to keep my own name. Draco doesn't mind – says it's time to break with tradition. And I agree.

**AN: It's now time for you to click the little blue button and leave a review.**


End file.
